Love at First Sight
by Kup of Koko
Summary: It started out with a simple walk in the park, and a dog. And, of course, Steve owes everything to Jarvis (to no one's surprise). Found-your-dog-AU; fem!Tony


**Oh, wow. It's been a while, hasn't it? Geez, I'm a terrible person. *hangs head in shame* But, good news! Summer's here, which means more frequent updates! Woo-hoo! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little cutie I've been working on for the past...forever. **

* * *

**Title: **Love at First Sight

**Fandom: **Marvel (Earth 3490)

**Pairing: **Steve/Toni

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, do not own Marvel.

**Warnings: **fem!Tony and unbetaed as per usual.

**Notes: **This is a no-powers AU, set in modern day; it also happens to be a fill for the found-your-dog-au prompt from fanficy-prompts on tumblr (love those guys).

* * *

Of course Steve owed it all to Jarvis. It didn't surprise anyone when he admitted that the dog had been the one who had brought himself and Toni together; if a person knew Jarvis, they knew he was practically physic. The German Shepherd was more human than animal, the way he always seemed to know what was best for Toni. And, that day, he seemed to think Steve was the best thing for Toni (despite it being the opposite).

* * *

"Whoa!" Steve yelped as a..._something_ slammed into his legs, throwing him off-balance. His arms flailed and his body crashed painfully against the spiny grass of the park. He glared up at the offending..._thing, _shaking his head to clear his eyes and nose of dirt. The blond thought taking a walk in Central Park would provide enough inspiration for his next painting.

But right now all it was offering was a dog. A big, mean-looking German Shepherd kind of dog. The two stared each down other for several tense seconds before the dog's demeanor suddenly changed. The scary scowl that had been painted over the pooch's muzzle transformed into a dopey-looking grin, and his eyes-one brown, one blue-exchanged their vicious gleam for a gentle, happy light.

Steve couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all as he tried to push the dog away. "Down boy, down!" He finally managed to get the dog off him long enough to pull himself into a sitting position. "Where are you from, boy?" Steve questioned softly, leaning close enough to read what had been inscribed on the metal plate of the dog's thick leather collar.

_My name is Jarvis!_

_I belong Toni Stark. _

_If you find me, please return me to _

_Apt. 85, Skyline Apartments, _

_101st__ Street, Manhattan, New York._

"Well, pooch," Steve said, digging his fingers into the scruff of the dog's neck, "how about we get you home?"

* * *

"Hello?" Steve knocked on the door _again,_ readjusting his grip on Jarvis' normal New Yorker would have given up long ago, but Steve had never been a normal New Yorker; his mother had originally been from Louisiana, and she'd raised him to be a polite Southern gentleman. He'd wait at this door all day.

But it was raining.

And he was starting to get cold.

And Jarvis was shivering.

And Steve was pretty sure that who ever Toni Stark was, they would not appreciate him getting their dog sick.

This left Steve with a bit of a problem. His roommate, Bucky, was terrified of dogs; it had to do with some traumatic experience Bucky had gone through as a child, one he still refused to tell Steve about, which was, in and of itself, a bit surprising. After all, the two men had been friends since their college days, and could practically finish each others' sentences.

(Bucky's girlfriend, Natasha, told them it was extremely creepy, and somewhat like a pair of teenage girls)

Still though, even with Bucky's hatred of dogs, Steve couldn't exactly just leave Jarvis at Toni's doorstep. There was no telling what could happen to the German Shepherd.

Steve gazed thoughtfully down at the dog, who stared happily back up at him with his multicolored eyes. "How do you feel about spending the night at my house, Jarvis?"

* * *

"_Steve!" _The man stifled a chuckle as he heard Bucky's shriek halfway down the hall. "What is this monster doing in our kitchen?!"

"I found him in the park, and when I took him home, his owner wasn't there. What was I supposed to do with him?" Steve called back, calmly turning a page in his magazine.

"The pound comes to mind!"

"He has a collar and everything; I wasn't going to take him to the pound."

"Can he stay outside?"

"It's raining."

"I know but-_yipe!_ Steve! He's growling at me!"

"Well, maybe you should stop yelling! You're probably scaring him."

"Well, maybe _he's _scaring _me_!"

Steve sighed; it looked like Bucky wasn't going to be giving this up anytime soon. He tossed his copy of ARTnews across his bed and stretched.

"Ummph!" A now-familiar blur of brown and black slammed against his chest, pushing him back against the mattress. "Hey Jarvis."

A friendly yip, accompanied by a warm tongue scraping along the rough stubble of Steve's cheek.

The man chuckled. "Good to see you to. Is Bucky being mean to you?"

"More like he's being mean to me!" Bucky craned his head around the door frame. "Did the mutt run in here?"

"Why are you so scared of dogs, Buck?" Steve questioned in return, dragging his fingers along the fur of Jarvis' spine. The dog panted happily and leaned against his side.

From his defensive position (_away _from Jarvis) by the door, the brunette simply replied, "My dad liked dogs."

Steve shrugged his shoulders in a conceding gesture, and the three sat in a peaceful (taut) silence, before Bucky finally asked the inevitable question. "So, that harness he's wearing...don't you think he's some sort of service dog?"

"That's what I thought at first," Steve replied slowly. "But don't service dogs usually wear some sort of vest or something?"

Bucky shrugged back. "My great-aunt was paralyzed, and she had a service dog. Whenever they went out in public, she had the dog wear a hideous orange vest that said, "I'm working", or something like that. So, I guess if he was a service dog, he'd probably have one of those...?"

"That's what I was thinking, too. We should probably take that off you now, huh Jarvis? I'll bet it chafes." Steve reached around the dog to fiddle with the buckles on the leather harness, but the dog's hair rose and he let loose a blood-curdling growl, leaping away from the two men and backing himself into the corner by Steve's desk. Jarvis' eyes darted nervously around the room as he snarled, lip pulled back away from two rows of vicious-looking teeth.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a surprised look. "I don't think he wants you to take it off," said the latter slowly.

"No dur, genius!" Steve snaps, before taking a deep, calming breath and shooting Bucky an apologetic glance before stepping cautiously toward Jarvis. "Hey, boy, you're okay. Nobody's going to hurt you, nobody's going to take your harness off, sh, sh, sh."

The dog's thick tail slowly began to wag and he crawled slowly out of the corner to lick at Steve's outstretched hand. This lead to a tentative scratch behind the ears, till Jarvis was finally back in Steve's lap.

"Do you think his owner beats him?" asked Bucky, who had wandered into the room and was absentmindedly rubbing his hand over the dog's ribs.

The sobering (logical) thought made something hot and angry burn low in Steve's gut. "They'd better not," he grit out, before glancing up at his friend. "You do realize that you're petting him, right?"

"GAH!"

* * *

Steve didn't take Jarvis back the next day, because it was still raining.

And there were puddles all over the streets the next, and Steve didn't want to return a dirtied dog.

The day after that, there was construction along 101st street, and none of the taxis would venture there.

Before Steve knew it, three weeks had past and Jarvis was rapidly becoming a permanent fixture at the apartment. The German Shepherd was fed table scraps, lay near Steve as the man worked in his studio, slept on the floor by Steve's bed, and even had a few chew toys to play with (courtesy of one James Buchanan Barnes, who denied all claims of having even a smidgen of fondness for the mongrel). Whenever Steve thought of returning the dog back to its owner, something would always distract him-and besides, after Jarvis' behavior that first night, Steve was a little dubious of the dog's owners; what would cause Jarvis to act that way, aside from being beat? And Steve Rogers was not about to take an animal back to an abusive home.

Steve frowned, mulling all these recent developments over as his paintbrush shushed softly over the canvas. Maybe he should turn Toni Stark in...make sure that they didn't own any other possibly abused animals. But no, that was a bit extreme; after all, he didn't even know if this Toni Stark person had beat Jarvis. Of course, if Steve admitted that, it would mean he was obligated to take Jarvis home to his original owners...

The blond's frown morphed into a snarl as he stared at the ruined canvas before him.

All this thinking was killing his creativity.

"How does a walk sound, Jarvis?"

The dog's tail thumped in agreement against the wood flooring of the studio.

* * *

"Steve! Hey, Steve!"

The blond paused to throw a distracted glanced over his shoulder and stumbled clumsily to a stop when he realized who had been calling his name.

"Geez, man," wheezed one Clint Barton once he'd finally reached Steve. The smaller man bent over, sucking in deep, hungry breaths as he wiped his hand over a sweaty forehead. "You walk _way _too fast."

"Sorry," Steve said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I was just thinking...wasn't paying attention, I guess. Sorry."

"It's fine. Stop apologizing. Now I have an excuse to not be caught up with Tasha."

"Could it just be that she's in better shape than you?" Steve questioned innocently, reaching down to gently rub Jarvis' ears. The dog sighed and leaned against his chino-clad thigh.

Clint's chest seemed to swell at the remark and it seemed as thought he'd suddenly gained an inch or two. "No. I'm in way better shape, and you know it." He glared, as if daring Steve to say otherwise.

The larger man held his hands up in a placating gesture (but, wisely, never admitted to anything).

"Besides," Clint continued, folding his right leg to stretch his hamstrings. "Nick was visiting today, and I would've sawed my arm off with a rusty spoon to get out of that apartment. When Natasha said it was our time to go running, I wasn't complaining." The man winced and he released his leg. "Now, though...I'm not so sure."

Steve grinned. He'd met Nick Fury, Natasha and Clint's foster-father, and he couldn't say he blamed them. Steve had always thought Natasha was practically a robot, till he'd met Nick Fury, who had the unique ability of making his foster daughter seem like a Twilight , to add insult to injury, the man was an egotistical, manipulative creep who...had somehow gotten Natasha and Bucky together, but that wasn't the point. Still though, Clint would've had to been desperate to actually agree, _willingly_, to go run with _Tasha_; even Bucky knew better.

"You know, I'm not feeling all that sorry for you."

Clint's face soured. "Yeah, yeah, stick it where the sun don't shine, Steve-o. By the way, who's your friend?" The man crouched to let Jarvis sniff his hand.

"Just a German Shepherd I found lost in the park a few weeks ago. He's-"

"Clint! Are you coming, идиот?"

The two men turned and winced simultaneously at the sight of the angry Russian striding towards them. An angry Natasha was a mean, dangerous, dea-well, it was just a Natasha to avoid.

"I agreed to let you go running with me because I thought you could keep up. Hey, Steve," she added, eyes never leaving Clint's.

Steve gave her a timid little wave before saying, "Well, I'd probably better be going. I've got some...paintings, yeah, paintings that need to be finished...soon, so...yeah. It was great talking to you, Clint. See you guys later." He turned, Jarvis hot on his heels, and sighed in relief. Thank heavens he hadn't been drug into-

"Wait, Steve."

Spoke to soon.

Steve slowly slid around, struggling to hide his grimace. "Yes, Natasha?"

"Where did you get that dog?" Nat didn't ever look up at him, just stared down at Jarvis, who stared back like he knew her.

"He was lost in the park a few weeks ago. I tried to return him, but the owner wasn't home."

The woman's eyes drew sharply up to his face. "Did you ever try to return him more than once?"

"Uh...kind of." Steve shuffled his feet against the cracked New York pavement. "I thought maybe his owner beat him, and I didn't want to return him to an abusive owner."

One of Natasha's elegantly sculpted brows rose in amusement. "Toni doesn't beat her dogs, Steve."

"Ah, man, you have _Toni's _dog? Sheesh, if you'd taken him home sooner, you would've saved me weeks of-"

"Clint." Natasha's tone was biting, despite the bit of laughter it seemed to contain.

"-helping out a friend, I was going to say 'helping', don't assume things, Natasha, it's very rude."

"You mean...you know who owns this dog?" Steve asked slowly.

"Yes. You should probably return him to her." The redhead's louring expression implied the '_right now',_ but it was just as clear as if she'd said it aloud.

And any man (woman, child, beast, _thing_) knew better than to cross Tasha.

* * *

Steve walked up to Toni Stark's apartment with a heavy heart. He knew giving Jarvis back was the right thing to do, but that didn't mean he wanted to. He'd grown to love the dog over the past few weeks, and though Bucky would say differently, getting a new dog wouldn't be the same. Jarvis had a very interesting...personality.

As the two reached the landing, the soft sound of some old 80's rock song floated through the door to greet them.

_"Maybe they won't hear me ring the bell, and I'll have to bring Jarvis back another day," _Steve couldn't help but think hopefully, then immediately felt guilty. Both Natasha and Clint's expressions had shown relief at having found the dog, which implied that the mysterious Toni Stark had been at least somewhat worried. Steve didn't like to think that he had caused someone pain.

"Hold on a minute. I'm coming," came a soft, soprano voice from the other side of the door.

Jarvis' tail began to swing back and forth.

There was a gentle scraping noise, as if someone were fumbling for the handle on the door, then it suddenly swung open to reveal...

...the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen. Her feathery dark hair was pulled back into a high seated pony tail, though a few strands had fallen forward into her pale blue eyes (she seemed to not notice). Her aristocratic nose was centered above a thick pair of cupid's bow lips. Her slim, tiny body would fit perfectly against his, he noticed, and quickly flushed at the thought.

"Hello?" she asked anxiously, one of her sweater-covered hands coming up to swipe restlessly at her forehead. Those endless blue eyes seemed to stare straight past him.

"Um...hi...I'm...um...I'm..."

A small smile pulled at the edges of her very kissable-uh, very normal, _average_lips. "You're...?"

"Uh...St-st-"

"Sterile?" she guessed, mischievousness staining her voice. "Strong? Stupid? Oh! Oh, I know! Stocky!"

Good heavens, she was crazy. But still attractive. Definitely attractive. Insanely-okay, that's enough, Steve. "N-n-no, I'm just Steve. Steve Rogers of 88 East 111th street."

The pause was long, and overstretched, till the brunette finally asked, "And what can I help you with, Just Steve Rogers of 88 East 111th street?"

"I, uh, found your dog."

The woman's face lit up, and her head swung from side to side in an almost comical gesture of excitement. "Jarvis?! Jarv?!"

The German Shepherd lunged forward, jerking the leash from Steve's surprised hands and leaping onto the woman in the doorway.

She seemed unsurprised by the action, grinning as she carefully placed the dog's large paws on her shoulders and kissed his wet nose. "Jarvis! Didja miss me, bud?"

The dog leaned forward and drug his wet tongue along her face. She giggled as he dropped back down to all-fours and began sniffling about her legs.

"Yes, surprisingly, I've managed to survive without you. See? I'm perfectly fine." The woman leaned down, her hands grasping for Jarvis' ears. It took her several times to finally find him, and those delicate fingers curled around the dog's thick fur as her head rose. "Thank you so much for bringing him home, Just Steve."

_Oh, man. _She was _blind _and Jarvis was her _guide dog; _that's why he hadn't let Steve take the harness off and...

Suddenly becoming aware that Toni was waiting for a reply, he stuttered out, "Oh, really, it was no problem. Really."

She smiled, crouching down to let Jarvis lay his head on her lap. "No, thank you. I know that it probably _was_ a problem. He can sometimes be a little difficult with people. And he's never really liked men, after my last boyfriend...uh, yeah, doesn't really like men in general." Her expression froze and her eyes widened. "You are a guy, right?"

Steve chuckled. "Yes."

A smile spread over the brunette's face once more. "Oh, good. I'm pretty good at judging by voices, but women can have deep voices sometimes, too. Learned that one the hard way." She stood and held out a hand. "I'm Toni Stark, by the way. Wanna come in for some coffee?"

Steve shook the proffered hand gently, mindful of the tiny bones that made up its delicate structure-those hands, petite and elegant yet covered with callouses and burn scars, were practically begging to be sketched.

Hopefully, there would be plenty of time for that in the future.

"Coffee sounds amazing."

* * *

_fin_

* * *

**A/N: This will probably be continued (with a sequel or another oneshot or something) at some point, but right now...this feels right. **

**Well, hope you liked it! Feedback in much appreciated (I still have problems getting Steve's character right-kudos and lots of cookies to dasserk, who helped me out TONS with Steve's character on Lost Cause (and, me, being the jerk I am, never said thank you). I lovelovelove getting prompts and, right now, those are at the top of my priority list, so...yeah. Anything you want to see, just PM me or leave a review. :) **


End file.
